


Note to Self: Cas Loves You

by almaasi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean, Caring Castiel, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Drunk Dean, Drunken Confessions, Fluff, Holding Hands, Love Confessions, M/M, Romance, Sam Knows, set somewhere around season 4/5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 04:39:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13473885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaasi/pseuds/almaasi
Summary: Dean is not just drunk – he is VERY drunk. Castiel ushers him back to their motel room, completely aware that by the time Dean wakes up tomorrow, he won't remember anything about tonight. What better time for Castiel to confess his love?





	Note to Self: Cas Loves You

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Mittens](http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/) and [Amara](http://sweetdreamspootypie.tumblr.com/) for the beta ✨

“But she wazz so prettyyy,” Dean complained, seemingly on the verge of tears. He hung from Castiel’s shoulder, all his weight slumped towards his bending knees.

“Yes, I’m sure she was,” Castiel assured Dean. With a grim smile and a shift of his angelic strength, Castiel lifted Dean fully to his feet, hanging one bicep behind his neck, the two of them holding hands over Castiel’s heart. “But you aren’t in any condition to let girls take you home, Dean. Come on, we’re almost there.”

“Nhhh.” Dean scowled, dragging his feet on the outdoor motel steps as they ascended. The laces on one boot had come undone, and his plaid shirt dangled by his knees, having been tied around his waist. “Least...” He breathed heavily, apparently allowing the stale walkway air to settle his heaving stomach. “Least I’m not... goin’ home alone.” A soppy smile crawled up his cheek. His gleaming eyes settled on the side of Castiel’s face, and Dean purred, “Big strong angel to take care’a me.”

“Quite,” Castiel said, approaching Sam and Dean’s motel room. He didn’t have a key, so stretched out a hand and made the lock glow white. The door swung open, and Dean giggled as Castiel helped him through.

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yes?” Castiel said, helping Dean on his slow, wobbly journey to the nearest bed. Sam wasn’t back yet; the room was empty.

“Do... d’ya think she knew?” Dean asked.

“Knew what, exactly?” Castiel replied.

Dean plopped his ass onto the side of the bed, leaning into Castiel’s supportive hands. “Mmm. That. _That_. Y’know.”

“I may have some non-terrestrial powers, but I am not an infallible mind-reader,” Castiel said, with both a fond smile and a squint wrinkling around his eyes.

Dean blinked hard, head lolling on his shoulders. He tried to open his eyes wider but they stayed hooded. He opened his mouth to explain, but burped instead. The smell of tequila hazed around him, and stayed there until Castiel exhaled in a sigh.

“How are you feeling, Dean?” Castiel asked.

Dean licked his lips, eyes up. His pupils were dark and his cheeks were flushed, and his hands clung to Castiel’s belt like it was all that kept his torso upright. “Pretty,” he said, smiling.

Castiel laughed, bowing his head. “Okay. Good enough.”

“D’yooou think the girl knew, Cas?” Dean suddenly looked very serious. “What if she took me buh... back to her place annnnd. Because?”

“Dean,” Castiel slowly sat down beside Dean on the bed, still holding his shoulder so he didn’t collapse. “I don’t... understand. You’re not entirely coherent at present.”

“Did she know that you’re my angel boyfriend,” Dean grinned. “C’mon, get withhha program, pal.” He turned serious again – worried, almost. “I almost cheated on you.”

Castiel tilted his head, perplexed. “But we’re not—”

“Dude, I _suck_ ,” Dean wailed, agony in his expression. “Dude— _Dude_ —”

“Dean, it’s all right,” Castiel said, placing a hand against Dean’s heart, feeling how it raced. “Don’t worry.”

“But girls are so pretty!” Dean chirped, apparently delighted at this fact. “And... and you’re pretty. And I’m pretty.”

“That... is most likely a true statement,” Castiel agreed, feeling his eyebrows hunching closer together.

“Bluh.” Dean shut his eyes.

“Will you be okay by yourself for a moment?” Castiel touched Dean’s burning cheek, checking him over. “I’ll get you some water.”

“‘Kay,” Dean said, snuggling against Castiel’s hand.

“Um.” Castiel stood up, but was restrained by Dean’s cheek, pressing down to his shoulder. “I need that back.”

Dean pouted, releasing Castiel’s hand. He suddenly smiled, singing, “Better hurry back, angel!”

Bemused, Castiel went to the motel’s sink and poured some fresh water into a glass, returning immediately with a flap of his wings. “Here.”

Dean took a second to look at Castiel... slowly registering his presence – then he gasped aloud in surprise.

Castiel chuckled, shaking his head as he handed Dean his water. “Drink this. _All_ of it.”

Dean did as he was told, humming off-key to something Castiel had heard on the Impala’s tape deck recently.

Castiel sat down by Dean again, watching him sip his water.

“Cughs?” Dean asked, before looking down at the water that had fallen out of his mouth. He smacked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, then sipped again. “Am I gonna remember any of this?”

“Do you usually forget things when you’re drunk?”

“On tequila nights, yeah.” Dean squinted, then pinched his eyes closed. “Hnnh. If... If I forget, I jusss... I wanna say thanks. For. For the thing. The walkingter. Walking water. Stuff.”

“Right,” Castiel said slowly. He began to smile. “You’re most welcome, Dean.”

“Hm,” Dean nodded, thoughtful. “Just doin’ your job, huh. Guardian angel. Won’t lemme get shitfaced drunk annnd do regretty things.”

Affection settled just a little deeper in Castiel’s chest, showing in the smile on his face. “Caring for you is far more than a job, Dean. It’s my... purpose.”

“Yeah?” Dean gulped the last half of the water, and hiccuped.

Castiel took the empty glass away, setting it on the nightstand between this bed and Sam’s bed. All at once, his mind filled up with possibilities. Something wonderful and worrying had grown inside Castiel over the last year, and for the first time, he considered whether it might be safe to speak his truth aloud.

“Are you sure you won’t remember this tomorrow?” Castiel pried, looking carefully into Dean’s eyes.

Dean’s focus switched between Castiel’s left eye and his right, then back. His lips hung open, the shimmering tip of his pink tongue just resting on the seam of his mouth. “Wha... What’cha gonna do?” Dean asked, easing an inch closer. He blinked rapidly, eyes down to Castiel’s lips.

Castiel gulped, though he had no real use for such a gesture. He realised that he was nervous, and his body wanted to show it the way a human would. That was part of the problem.

“I feel,” Castiel began – and then he stopped.

That was all.

“I _feel_ ,” he said again. That was his secret.

Dean seemed confused, looking closely at Castiel’s mouth, then his nose. He then searched his eyes, looking for a comprehensive meaning.

“I love,” Castiel explained. He held Dean’s eyes until it hurt too much in his chest, and then he gazed at their linked hands instead, wondering when they’d joined together. He stretched out his fingers, feeling Dean’s slide closer, the most sensitive inner sides of their fingers slipping into complete contact.

“You feel... love?” Dean said.

Castiel shut his eyes.

Dean only gave the slightest whisper, but it was enough to touch Castiel’s ears like a caress. “It’s okay, Cas. You’d suck reeeeal bad if you didn’t care. Isss... sweet. How much you care ‘bout me and Sammy. We ‘ppreciate it, like, a bunch, dude.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Castiel said, his voice grating, all of him hanging on the edge of an emotional precipice. “I feel love for _you_.”

“Me.”

Castiel turned his face away, but kept his fingers spread for Dean to cling to.

A drowning sense of anguish took over Castiel, and he exhaled. “I have to go now.” He stood up, letting go of Dean’s hand. He vanished – and then returned a moment later, hands full. “Here’s some more water.” He placed the full glass on the nightstand. “Here’s a bucket in case you’re sick. The bathroom door is open. Pray for me if you need me; I’ll check on you in the morning.”

“Cas—” Dean was halfway into bed, one boot kicked off, hands around his other one. “H... Hang on.”

Castiel hesitated, but he stayed.

“Why’d you...?”

“Why did I tell you?” Castiel shook his head, glaring at the carpet. “One weakness leads to another.”

He vanished, and Dean was left alone.

It took a moment before Dean realised Cas had disappeared. Dean looked around, thinking his friend had fallen over, or hid while Dean was busy blinking. But he was absent. The room was empty.

Dean made a sad face. “Hm.”

He blinked some more. “Wait... Waitwaitwait...”

Tonight was important! He was about to forget everything and he couldn’t forget this. He couldn’t.

On shaking legs, he got up, flopping towards Sam’s bed.

“Gotta... find...” Dean muttered, clawing through Sam’s bedsheets, thinking he’d find something there.

Nope. The bag...?

Dean upended Sam’s belongings over the bed and the floor, shaking his head. “No. Nonono. C’mon. C’mon.” He could feel sleep tugging on the back of his head, calling him downward. “Shit! Can’t forget. Can’t. Stupid. Stupid! Stupid tequila! Stupid Dean.”

He’d forget this like he forgot the good dreams. No way he was going to let that happen.

“Come ON!” He couldn’t find the notebook he was looking for, so grabbed for the next best thing. A pen. And the back of his arm.

He wrote it out once.

Then again.

One more time.

_Cas loves you._

_Cas loves you._

_Cas loves you._

**« · · · ♥ · · · »**

Castiel appeared in the motel room, sensing Dean was unwell. He took off his coat and jacket and left them on the end of Dean’s messed-up bed. On his way to the bathroom, Castiel stepped over a jumble of Sam’s things, all spilled across the floor.

Rolling up his shirt sleeves, Castiel crouched beside Dean, stroking his back as he heaved into the toilet.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Dean said, not lifting his head.

“How are you feeling now?”

Dean laughed bitterly. “Just peachy. Just fuckin’ great, Cas.” He lifted a limp hand, forefinger and thumb together. “A-okay.”

“That’s good.”

“Uh-huh.” Dean puked one more time, spat, then slammed the toilet lid closed and flushed it down. “Just— God, let me crawl to the shower in _peace_.”

Castiel helped him up. Dean stumbled into the motel’s tiny green bath with his clothes still on, turning on the faucet at full force, blasting his face and clothes with cold spray. Dean gritted his teeth and bore with it, gargling and spitting out the ugly echoes of a night he didn’t remember.

“Dean, let me...” Castiel reached into the shower and turned down the water pressure, and warmed up the water. “Take this off.”

He helped Dean peel his now sopping-wet clothes off his body. First came a plaid shirt, followed by a stained t-shirt, followed by his jeans. Castiel didn’t mind that the water drenched his shirt; he kept Dean steady as he yanked his own socks off.

“Leave me alone,” Dean said, handing Castiel his second sock.

“As you wish,” Castiel said kindly, with a slight nod.

Dean couldn’t help but smirk. “Fuckin’ dork.”

“Did you know that word means ‘penis’?”

“I know what I said, Cas,” Dean stated, still smiling. “Get lost already.”

When Dean looked over his shoulder, Castiel was gone.

**« · · · ♥ · · · »**

Dean lay on his bed, listening to Zeppelin’s mellow strings, watching the sunlight play on his fingernails. With one eye closed, he watched his copper hand turn among sage-green shadows, stretched out high above him, reaching for the ceiling.

Something drifted... something he couldn’t quite grasp.

“Are you still drunk, or are you just in a weird mood?”

Dean pulled one headphone off, sitting up. “What?”

Sam looked up from his laptop. “When I got back last night you were passed out, face-down on the bed, and you stank like tequila mixers and lime. At _nine-thirty_. What the hell happened, Dean?”

Dean blinked, looking at the foam squares on the motel room ceiling. “Honestly? I dunno.”

He lowered his gaze to his arm, examining the blurry writing. Blue ink. Completely illegible. Whatever it said, it was written on his wrist, again on his inner forearm, and on the centre of his palm, right across the old scars of a hundred repeated knife-pulls.

“I was... mad about something,” Dean said, turning his cheek into the motel pillow, eyes cast towards his brother. “Like, _super_ broken up about it.”

“Chuh,” Sam agreed. “Tequila’s your go-to happy-juice.”

“Must’ve worked,” Dean said, eyebrows up. “Whatever pissed me off, it clearly ain’t bothering me any more.”

“Cas is gone too,” Sam remarked, slowly closing his laptop. “You, uh... know anything about that?”

Dean fretted, glancing at the ceiling. A flutter of morning light shot out from between the drapes, streaking for the far wall before vanishing. And so went Dean’s thoughts: salient, and then absent.

He took a breath and sat up. “I think I figured something out. It was important.”

“Case-related?”

Dean shook his head, frowning. “Somethin’ personal.”

“What kind of personal?”

Dean flicked his eyes up. “Personal enough that I drank it out of me in a big rush.” He swung his legs out of bed. He sat with his head in his hands, scrubbing through his hair.

“Don’t you think maybe next time you shouldn’t—”

“Shh-sh, I’m trying to think,” Dean said. He ran his fingers over his forehead, hoping he could fish the memories out. “ _God_. My brain’s _pudding_ today.”

Ugh. It wasn’t happening. Frustrated, Dean got to his feet and began to pace. He shook his head. Absolutely nothing coherent came to mind. The night was a blur of neon lights and salt rims and deep, dark sleep. He saw Castiel’s smile – the soft one, the friendly, affectionate one – but without context it was meaningless. The thrilling flip in Dean’s chest felt like a clue, but it wasn’t enough to lead him to the next clue.

Clues.

Evidence.

 _Cases_.

Dean took a breath and began clicking his fingers in Sam’s direction. “Hey. Heyheyhey, where’s your notebook. The flippy one. The FBI one.”

“Uh?” Sam rummaged through all the papers he had spread on the breakfast table. “This?” He lifted it, and Dean snatched it. He turned pages, looking for a message. Wendigos, vampires, werewolves— Where was the bit about Cas?

Blank pages.

Dean tossed the notebook back to his brother with a huff.

“Where’s your one?” Sam asked. “Your notebook.”

Dean shot off, upturning his own bag to find it. He located it, flipping to the end.

“Same deal. Nothin’.” He gritted his teeth and flopped back onto his bed. He stretched his hands through his hair, knuckles grazing the bed’s scratched-up headboard.

Whatever he’d done while drunk wasn’t the source of his regret; without the memories, there was nothing _to_ regret. He only regretted getting drunk in the first place.

He punched the headboard with a grunt, glaring at the ceiling.

His fist began to sting. Dean cradled it to his chest, one hand over the other. Rubbing the pain away, he looked down to see a small cut on his skin, right where he’d punched the bed.

With a gasp, he rolled over, looking at the headboard. The whole thing was graffitied, cut with knives and scarred with pens. But the freshest words of all were clear as the golden daylight: the lines of the letters were clean and sharp.

_And you love him too._

That was _Dean’s_ all-caps lettering. That was cut by _his_ knife. This was his message for himself.

His heart began to hammer, his pudding brain quickly solidifying into a more intelligent form.

_—you love him too._

That meant...?

‘Too’ implied there was more of the same, beforehand. An admission of... response.

_Cas loves me._

Dean breathed out, relieved. Now he knew.

_Cas loves me, and I love him too._

“ _That_ was why I ordered tequila?!” Dean said aloud, in disgruntled awe.

“What?” Sam said.

Dean pushed back from the headboard, sitting dazed on the middle of the bed. “Remind me again, Sam— What’s so damn terrible about having _feelings_?”

The question stumped Sam for a number of seconds.

But he soon answered, “The moment you connect to something or someone, that thing becomes a liability. Having a liability gets either you or that thing destroyed, in time. You either protect it forever or you’re forced to let it go.”

“A weakness,” Dean said, half to himself.

“A strength,” Sam countered. He got up from his table and wandered closer to Dean, interested but uncertain. “You know it as well as I do, Dean – if we don’t let other people in, we end up alone. Other people have our back. We need them.”

“Yeah.” Dean ran his hand over his mouth, bristling through his stubble. “But what about when there’s no enemy? No big battle on the horizon. What if we don’t need someone, we just want them? Because... they make you feel good. Happy.” He hesitated, but finished, “Safe. Or whatever.”

Sam sat beside Dean on the bed, and Dean felt a funny sense of deja-vu, but a fragment off; this moment didn’t play out quite the same as last time.

With concern in his eyes, Sam took a breath to ask a question. Dean knew what he was about to ask: _What do you want? Who are you talking about?_

But Sam smiled, and he shook his head, placing his hand on Dean’s crumpled-denim knee and squeezing. “Dean? You have to tell him.”

Dean looked his brother in the eye.

Sam gazed back.

They both knew. They didn’t need to say it.

There was an important confession Dean still needed to make. Just not to Sam.

**« · · · ♥ · · · »**

“Cas, you got your ears on?”

Dean looked up at the endless expanse of the universe, seeing only the common veil of blue. Combed, woolly clouds strutted across the dome, stretching towards the pink edge. Dean sighed and covered his eyes with his hands.

“Cas, we gotta talk.”

“That sounds ominous,” Castiel said, as the flap of his wings vanished into the breeze. He joined Dean on the edge of the motel walkway, hands on the rusting bar, eyes cast to the parking lot below.

Dean gazed at him gently. “Thanks for last night.”

Castiel met his eyes, startled. “You remember?”

“No,” Dean said. “But I know it wasn’t Sam who got me into bed in one piece, or put a bucket within grabbing distance, or gave me some water. And it wasn’t some girl, either. My clothes smelled like angel, not like perfume.”

Castiel looked down at himself, frowning slightly. “I smell?”

A sunshine grin stole across Dean’s face. “Like dirt. But good dirt. The kind that – y’know – dries up in dappled sunlight under old oak trees, and it gets under your nails? Anyway, the point is—” He took Castiel’s arm, holding his trenchcoat. His thumb stroked the fabric, smooth and warm under his fingerprint. “The point is...”

He didn’t know how to say this.

“Cas... Listen. I know.”

“Know,” Castiel repeated.

“Why I got drunk. Why you let me drink enough to black out. Why you let me stay drunk instead of booping me sober. Why you took care of me the human way instead. And— And why you took off after.”

Castiel’s face formed a stony, neutral expression. He only stared, as if waiting for a reason to shrug this conversation off, as if Dean’s words weren’t as serious as they both knew them to be.

“Maybe we could both forget, you know?” Dean turned his eyes to the sky again, watching the clouds surf a coral wave. “Maybe it could be that easy. Maybe we go about our lives, hunting monsters, not saying anything, not doing anything about it. Because saying it – _doing_ it – that’s way harder, right?” He shrugged, then nodded. “It is. It’s harder. It’s so hard I can’t even _say_ it right now.” He huffed out a grin, wildly unsettled.

“But,” Dean went on, turning to gaze at Castiel’s chest, “since when do _any_ of us ever take the easy route, Cas? We do things the hard way, ‘cause that’s where the prize is. That’s always how we win. That’s how we’re still _standing_. We do it hard, and we do it together.”

When Dean looked into Castiel’s eyes, he saw fear there. Yet he saw the fear of a child faced with danger, not that of an ancient, impossible being faced with a new emotion.

So Dean took his hand and held it. Comforting him, like he would for a child. This was a new world for Castiel; they could take things as slowly as he needed.

Castiel looked at their joined hands, and he relaxed. Just a little bit.

“Cas?”

Dean smiled when Castiel looked at him. He held his guardian angel’s gaze, and told him, with all the strength he had: “I love you too.”

Castiel’s expression shattered into nothing. He looked down, helpless.

But then he looked up... and he was smiling.

**{ ♥ }**

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to those magical people who read EVERY SINGLE story I post ([there's 79 fics now??](http://archiveofourown.org/users/almaasi/works) heck). Bonus shoutout to folks who always leave kudos ([80,000 total as of yesterday](http://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/170075162965/almaasi-6-kudos-until-80000-across-all-of-my) hOLY TEQUILA thank you), occasionally leave comments (reading your comments is EASILY my favourite part of the writing process), and, of course, shoutout to everyone who stays subscribed so you don't miss any new fics. I get to recognise your usernames over time, and I'm always delighted to notice you ♥
> 
> Thank you for keeping me encouraged so I keep writing. Your support is why I'm still here five-and-a-half years on, 78 stories later. I am so, SO grateful.
> 
> P.S. There's [a big orange thing in my tumblr sidebar](http://almaasi.tumblr.com/), click it (on desktop) to find out how you can support me in other ways!! Well... y'know, if you want. Also follow me on tumblr?? (Did I mention thank you for nearly 10,000 tumblr followers???? _**THANK YOU**_ )
> 
> ☆ [tumblr post of this fic](http://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/170099019030/note-to-self-cas-loves-you)


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